The Meant to Be Collection

by Claire Highton-Stevenson

As Brooke watches on, safe at her distance, the woman’s friends begin to arrive and join her. Two men and three women. People that make Brooke jealous in an instant. She wants to be with them. In fact, no, she wants them to leave, to not exist and invade this private spectacle.

  The woman laughs at something one of her friends has said and Brooke thinks it might be the sexiest thing she has ever seen.

  The larger man of the two, the one who has been holding court for the last ten minutes, leans in and whispers something against her ear, and although the blonde is laughing, this time she doesn’t look as though she is quite so comfortable with the group as Brooke first thought. She looks on edge, a little unnerved, anxious even, but she hides it well. She is there and yet, she is distant from them.

  It sets her aside.

  She stands out.

  Her honey-coloured blonde hair flies around her face as her head whips one way and then the other, trying to keep up with the conversations. Sometimes she is successful; other times it’s clear that she missed the joke. She falters, but still she smiles and keeps listening, and Brooke is enraptured even more. This woman exudes such confidence in the way that she dresses and takes in the world around her, and yet, it’s all a façade with these people.

  She has been blatant in her staring; several times the blonde has caught those dark, brooding eyes with her own surreptitious glance. Brooke blushed the first time, mainly out of politeness, but when Blondie smiled back at her the second time, Brooke was hooked even more.

  Sipping her drink, Brooke is watchful, alert to her every move. The woman glances over at her admirer and then heads to the dance floor, aware she is the object of someone’s desire.

  Watching her move was mesmerising, the way her body loosened to the beat. She looked relaxed and every inch the siren. Brooke wanted to devour her, let her hands roam over every inch of her there was to explore, and do it again, over and over. Her imagination raced at the endless possibilities, and positions she could have her in. Naked positions.

  Brooke swallowed down her drink; a little Dutch courage never hurt. She checked her appearance in the mirror behind the bar. She looked good. Her hairstyle with the short back and sides was slowly growing out, the fringe flopping down over her eyes until she swept it back into place with her fingers. She was cute and she knew it. Not in an arrogant way, she could never be described as that, but she made the best of herself.

  The game of cat-and-mouse flirting had gone on long enough. She wanted to talk with this woman. If she was lucky, she would be allowed to touch maybe, but as she placed her empty bottle down on the bar, ready to casually head on over and politely intrude on this little gathering, the reality hit her like a truck.

  To Brooke’s utter dismay, she was leaving.

  Coats where shrugged on and bags grabbed from the floor. Drinks swallowed down in one last gulp as laughter erupted once more between them all.

  A glance back at Brooke and then she was gone.

  That was a week ago.

  Chapter One

  Brooke Chambers was a civilian now and for the first time in eight years, she was at a loss. An impasse. Eight years of loyal service to Queen and country had given her a sound grounding but now, life was pushing her in another direction; an important direction. She wasn’t sure she was ready for something of this magnitude, but she was doing it anyway.

  There had never been a plan to become a parent and yet here she was, an instant mother, of sorts.

  Joining the army had been the job she had always wanted. Since she was a kid, it was all she had dreamed about doing, and had her choices been different six months ago, she probably wouldn’t have left. But her personal circumstances had changed things rather rapidly, and the only option she’d had was to request a PVR.

  A Premature Voluntary Release hadn’t been the way she had ever foreseen her career ending. Her plans of promotion through the ranks and an early retirement were scuppered overnight, but she wasn’t unhappy about it now. She couldn’t be. Robin was far more important than rank.

  Having a kid meant her savings were dwindling fast, not that there had been much to start with. It was only the payout of a small insurance policy from her dad that meant she’d had enough to set them up in the small 2-bed flat she had found. Moving out of the area and somewhere cheaper was out of the question right now. Robin was still at school; it didn’t seem fair to disrupt that right now, not with exams coming up. So, Brooke had found a place that would work for them both, for now. It wasn’t like her sister asked for much out of life.

  Without a job though, things were getting tight, and moving could well be in the cards whether Robin liked it or not.

  She wasn’t used to sitting around in her spare time. Her days were spent with walks in the park and trips to the job centre, stopping by the library and wandering the shopping mall looking for vacancies. Applying for jobs was easy enough, but with so much competition, getting an interview was not quite so simple. So, she was overjoyed when the invitation to interview at Pollards Department Store in town came through. Without sounding arrogant, she was pretty sure that she could walk it. It was a good job, well-paying and steady. Robin had a school trip coming up, and that was going to cost a lot more than Brooke could afford without full-time employment. So timing was great.

  Tonight though, Robin was staying over at her best friend Jasmine’s again. The Khans had been good friends to Brooke and Robin, helping out when they could. Yasmeen, Mrs Khan, had been a godsend by having Robin stay a couple of times a week. She said that it was Jas begging and pleading, and how could she stand in the way of such friendship, but Brooke knew that it was also for Brooke, to give her time to herself to enjoy life and not just be a caregiver. In return, Jas stayed over at theirs a couple of times a week too. There were no set rules; the girls just picked a house to sleep in and that was that.

  Now Brooke had a choice to make. A quiet night in watching nothing very much on TV, or prudently spending the £16.98 in her pocket on happy hour somewhere.

  Bypassing her local pub was an impulsive decision. It was a ridiculous reason really, but Art felt like the place to head to, even if the chances of her being there were small. It didn’t seem to matter how busy she kept herself; images of the woman kept infiltrating her thoughts at every inopportune moment. She kicked herself daily for not being a little quicker off the mark in introducing herself.

  Art was in full swing at 6 p.m. most nights as the town’s workforce made a quick stop before heading home after a hard day. Brooke pushed through the door, earning an appreciative glance from the female bouncer. It put a little spring in her step and she grinned back enthusiastically. Sidling up to the bar, she slipped a tenner out of her pocket, ready to take full advantage of the 2 for 1 deal they had going on; happy hour was her favourite time in any bar.

  A casual glance around had already put her nerves at ease and filled her with disappointment all at the same time; the blonde wasn’t here. Yet.

  Catching the barman’s attention, she ordered her drinks and silently said a prayer that the gorgeous blonde might turn up at some point.

  There was, though, a painting on the wall that caught her eye, and she wandered over to examine it more closely. Two naked women entwined together inside a pint glass. She wasn’t sure what it was meant to represent. Art was a simple thing for her. She either liked it or she didn’t; she didn’t need to understand it.

  She swigged more of her drink and moved along to the next piece on the wall, swaying to the music as she studied it. She liked this song; it had been playing on the radio a lot lately.

  Oil on canvas.

  Tilting her head one way and then the other, she still couldn’t quite work it out. It was all swirls and colours that swept around each other in two circles. She liked it, but she didn’t get it.

  Her instincts felt the presence of someone standing behind her, just a few seconds before the aural confirmation.

  “If you take a step back and look at it from a diffe
rent angle, I think you’ll get it.” The voice was feminine and well-spoken. Sultry, a little breathy, and it came with a pleasing aroma that clung to Brooke’s senses. Trusting a voice, she took a step backwards, moving closer against the warm body that didn’t move away. She realised that what she wasn’t seeing was the close up of a women’s breasts.

  “So I see.” Brooke grinned, turning finally towards the owner of the voice and subsequent information. Honey blonde hair framing a confident, very attractive and familiar face: the blonde from last week. She felt her insides tumble and flip.

  “I would ask if you’d like a drink, but I see you already have one.” There was a slight twitch of her lip. Her eyes glanced down to the bottles in Brooke’s hands before they rose slowly to find Brooke’s dark and brooding orbs waiting. They found themselves locked in a battle of wills: who would look away first?

  Brooke lost that battle. The overwhelming urge to look lower and check her out was undeniable. She was wearing the same heels, not too high but high enough to put them on the same level when she looked back up and found her eyes again piercing her very soul. Hazel green in colour, her eyes smiled when she did, tiny little laughter lines appeared at the corner. This close, she was simply stunning. She wore a simple black dress tonight. Muscular shoulders suggested that she swam, or worked out, maybe both. Not that it mattered to Brooke; there were plenty of exercise routines she could put her through in bed, she considered.

  “Hi,” she said, amused. It would seem that she enjoyed the appraisal and began one of her own.

  Brooke couldn’t help the grin that spread across her own face. “Hello,” she replied casually, though she felt anything but, and took a swig from her lager to stop herself from blurting out something ridiculous, like I love you. She held up the bottle, which she was still yet to drink from, and offered it to the still-anonymous woman.

  A manicured hand reached out and took it. She twisted it around and examined the label.

  “Thank you.” She must have approved because she brought it to her lips and took a mouthful, all the while keeping her eyes firmly on Brooke.

  “I’m Brooke.”

  Slowly, she pulled the bottle from her mouth. Her tongue slid leisurely across her lips, collecting the moisture, the move ending with a delicate bite of the plump lower lip. “Catherine,” she replied.

  Brooke nodded. “Catherine.” She let the name play over her tongue, sounded out the syllables and heard it repeat inside her head. It was a good name and it suited her. “Wanna get a seat and another drink?”

  “Yes, I do.” She winked and led the way.

  Catherine was a lot of fun. She liked beer, but preferred wine. Chilean red if Brooke wanted to know, which she did; she wanted to know everything.

  Catherine liked to dance, and go to the theatre, but she preferred a quiet night in with a good book if she was really honest. Her favourite authors were mystery writers and she loved a good detective story. She was a tea over coffee in the morning person, but she did enjoy an espresso in the afternoon to give her a little pick-me-up. She swam at the weekends and did a couple of yoga classes during the week, but mainly she was a sloth that preferred to relax and watch a movie.

  Brooke told her about life in the army and how she was looking for work right now, but it wouldn’t be long until she was employed again because she wasn’t the type to sit around idly, and she was prepared to take just about anything if it meant she could pay her way. How she enjoyed sports and running. She loved chocolate, kebabs, and Chinese food, but not the kind from a take-away. She liked cooking her own from scratch.

  She didn’t mention Robin just yet.

  “So, I wanna assume that you’re single.” Brooke flashed her that confident smirk that had done so well for her so far.

  Catherine laughed and moved a little closer, playfully stroking a fingertip down Brooke’s cheek. “Yes, very single.”

  Brooke tilted her head and sipped her colourful drink through a paper straw; they’d moved on from lager to something more interesting a while ago as happy hour had extended into a second and then third hour. “Well, I am sure that must be through choice.” Catherine was maybe 10 – 15 years older than herself. Brooke was okay with that; older women held a certain experience and candour that girls her own age often lacked.

  “I suppose it is, but that isn’t to say that I wouldn’t be interested, if the right person came along.” She let her other palm slide along Brooke’s thigh, the movement slow and questioning.

  “Person?”

  “Well, I prefer women, but I don’t limit myself when needs must.” Her voice was like silk, soft and sensuous. It wrapped around Brooke’s senses like a gentle touch.

  Brooke nodded, enjoying the warmth of the palm as it ghosted along her thigh and then came to a stop high enough up her leg to be almost indecent.

  “Is that a problem?” Catherine asked, sipping her own drink. She sat back now, and Brooke instantly felt the loss.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, not at all…I guess I just made an assumption.” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. An errant piece of blonde hair hung loose and pulled her attention. She gently reached out and hooked it back behind Catherine’s ear. It was incredible just how easy it was to talk to Catherine. Rarely did she feel this at ease with someone, especially a woman she was interested in, and she was entirely interested in Catherine. She was going to be braver this time. Licking her lips, her eyes darted to Catherine’s mouth, and she imagined them soft and pliable, tugging against her own lips.

  At twenty-six, Brooke was experienced enough. She knew what she liked and what she wanted, and right now, that was Catherine.

  They were on their 4th drink when Catherine made the bold move to kiss her. Conversation had continued, and with every opportunity they had gravitated closer to one another until the point that all Catherine had to do was lean in. She took her opportunity.

  She didn’t do this often. Mostly, she let them chase her long enough to get what she needed. She had noticed Brooke the previous week; couldn’t fail to when the brooding dark eyes had spent all night watching her, and she was a little disappointed that she hadn’t had the chance to get a closer look at her then. When she saw her again tonight checking out the artwork, she made sure not to lose out this time.

  She wasn’t disappointed so far.

  The first kiss was surprisingly chaste. Brooke did not need any encouragement to enjoy the next one. Strong fingers slid easily into waves of soft hair until she and Catherine were but a breath apart still. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Catherine uttered dreamily, enjoying the feeling of Brooke’s fingers playing with her hair.

  Leaning back in, Brooke smiled, whispering against soft lips, “Nothing to apologise for.” She wanted to taste her, feel the warmth of her. Eagerly sliding her tongue inside Catherine’s mouth, she wasted no time in taking the lead, probing and possessive, enjoying the sweetness of the alcohol on her tongue.

  “I think I could kiss you all night if you let me.” The hint of an invitation wouldn’t hurt.

  Catherine’s lip twitched and her eyes sparkled as she glanced down shyly. Catching sight of her watch, she cursed. “Damn, it’s nearly midnight, I need to get going. I have a huge meeting in the morning and I cannot be late.”

  Disappointment crushed her chest. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” Brooke said hopefully, pulling out her phone, ready to ask for a number.

  Smiling fully now, Catherine stood and pulled her jacket on. “I’d like that. Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll call you as soon as I have some time?”

  Chapter Two

  The kitchen table was a mess. Dirty plates with half-eaten toast were stacked up. Mugs of tea and glasses of juice scattered across it, interspersed with textbooks and pens. Robin hunched over her maths exercise book and frowned.

  “How do you make so much mess in the mornings?” asked Brooke when she shuffled sleepily into the room. She scratched at her head and yanked
at her vest top. The material was bunched up around her waist from a fidgety night’s sleep.

  “Did you get a job yet?” the fifteen-year-old snarked back.

  “You already know I got an interview.” She grinned, picking up the kettle. Water splashed at her as she filled it. “Did you get that form for me?”

  Robin closed her book, put her pen in its case, and rolled her eyes at her sister. “Yeah, I left it by your bag on the sofa.”

  “Oh, right.” She guzzled a glass of tap water while the kettle built up some steam. “I’ll fill it out and you can take it in tomorrow.”

  “Whatever, I don’t wanna go anyway.” Robin shrugged as she pulled her long dark hair up into a ponytail. “We can’t afford it,” she said, opening her bag and shoving the books and pens inside.

  Brooke sighed, a thin smile passing her lips. “Let me worry about that, okay. You’re going on that trip. It will be good for you and you love history.” The kettle boiled and she turned to pour the water into a clean mug.

  “I can read it in books,” she argued, pulling her school blazer on.

  “That’s not the same, Binni. This is going to be part of your exam and you know that Dad…” She felt her throat fill with emotion. “You know Dad wanted you to do well.”

  “Well, he isn’t here, is he?” Robin said with a shrug. “He’s dead, and Mum doesn’t want to know.”

  Brooke shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “It is. And I know you wanna see the best in her Brooke, but I am done, she didn’t even come to the funeral. You’re all that matters to me now. You’re the one that gave up everything for me. I’m gonna make you proud no matter what, Brooke.”

  She didn’t remember ever being someone so prone to tearing up, but it was happening a lot for Brooke lately, especially where her younger sister was concerned. “You already do.”

  Robin tossed her bag over her shoulder. “It’s just you and me now.” Confirmation came with a gentle touch of her palm against Brooke’s arm and a kiss against her cheek. “Get a job,” she called out as she left.